


Call Out my Name

by ai_ai



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, F/M, heard you liked angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ai_ai/pseuds/ai_ai
Summary: I've had this fic saved in my pen drive for almost 2 years now.  I decided to post is now because, what the hell, I'm in a quarantine and haven't got a thing to lose now lol.  Also, I added the translations of Dalish words/phrases!A BIG thank you to my editor, biggest inspiration and best sisters I could ever ask for, cyndario ♥WARNING: I warped parts of the canon story to better suit my idea.  And yes, this is completely based off The Weeknd's "Call Out my Name".  Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Alistair/Female Mahariel (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Mahariel (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Call Out my Name

Ferelden was at peace once more. The Archdemon was slain, the Blight stopped, giving the people their lives back. Unfortunately Denerim had suffered immensely. Its buildings had been reduced to rubble, the cobblestone streets covered in dust and bodies, fire turning the remains of the once bustling city to ash. But no matter how dreadful the scenery seemed, order had been restored and the Wardens were victorious.

The Wardens finished their job and it was time to move onto the next phase; the crowning of a new King. Surprisingly it was one of their own, one that had fought against the Archdemon and lived. The lords and ladies of the Landsmeet had chosen to acknowledge Maric Theirin’s bastard son, Alistair Theirin, as the rightful ruler. Ferelden currently has a Queen but nevertheless, Alistair was chosen. Whether he ruled by himself or accompanied by another must be decided—and soon.

Back in Redcliffe Castle, the two remaining Wardens and their companions were offered food, clothes and shelter; being revered as heroes. Zevran sighed happily while relishing the thought of being hailed as such by adoring fans, followed by a loud burst of “Drinks!” provided by Ohgren. And so came the time when everyone decided it’s time to part ways for the evening. They know the Wardens are needed for bigger intentions and decide to give them space and time to relax.

After the Wardens are shown to their room, the Dalish woman closes the door and locks it, letting a loud sigh escape from her lips. She’s still trying to process that it’s all over; reminding herself that she can finally take a break and that the world isn’t as mad as it was before. Meanwhile Alistair crashes right onto the bed, then proceeds to throw his sword and shield far away—but alas, old habits die hard—and instead opts to drop his weapons at the side of the bed. Lazily, he starts removing his breastplate and gauntlets, managing to throw those a bit further than his weapons. He rubs his eyes and groans. Neither seem to be able to rest after the events that had transpired. A silence falls onto the room, both seem lost in their own thoughts.

Iltae makes her way to the lit fireplace. “I can't believe we're both here.”, she whispers. “It's difficult to process all of this.”

“I know.” Alistair sighs. “Imagine having to deal with this kind of thing  _ daily _ .”

“The ‘saving a whole kingdom part’ or the ‘political part’?” she asks, slightly raising her brow and smirking.

“Both… but mainly the political part.” Alistair sits upright to face her and tries to smile, but doesn't manage to fully hide his worried and frustrated expression. Iltae walks over to him, takes his hand and softly starts to caress it. He tries once again to smile but fails.

“ _ Ma vhenan _ * , what's bothering you? You don't look too happy to be alive.” Iltae teased, trying to coax his worries from him. 

“You know I'm to be crowned King, right?” he asks, regretfully.

“And you will be an amazing King. A strong, resourceful,  _ handsome _ King,” she adds as she sits down on the bed beside him. Iltae flashes him a reassuring smile. “Don't worry, you're not alone in this.”

He sighs loudly and takes his hand back, clasping both together and placing them in his lap. Alistair's eyes shift across the room, as if looking for an exit. “I already feel alone.” he mumbles.

“We're in this together. We already decided we'd be together; I can help–”

“I know we said that,” he interrupts, “but that was just between us. Other people have their own plans in mind.” His brows are furrowed, jaw clenched, beads of sweat start to form on his forehead.

Iltae is thrown off guard by his comment. He’s never acted this way towards her. Sure, he had been nervous; unsure before the Landsmeet but this was different. These words didn't even seem the least bit unsure; they were blunt and aiming to cut deep. “ _ Ma vhenan _ –”

“No, don't.” Alistair blurts out. He stands up and commences to pace in the middle of the room. Her eyes glue onto him, wanting for an explanation as to why he was behaving this way. Loud exasperated sighs, shifty eyes and trembling hands were starting to agitate the female Warden; her own expressions changing from caring and soothing to worry. “I can't be your  _ vhenan _ anymore.” He blurts out. 

“What?”

“I-I-I just can't,” he manages to spit out. The soon-to-be-King sighed loudly and shrugged, letting his arms fall at his side, hitting his body. “We can't…  _ be _ together.” Finally, he’s able to meet her gaze.

“What do you mean by ‘other people’?” Her eyes are narrowed, hands gripping the bed sheets. “Are there ‘other people’ in our relationship?” She asks, an edge to her voice.

“Iltae, please!” Alistair barks as he turns away from her, his hands balled into fists.

“No!” She snaps while standing up, proceeding to meet face-to-face with her lover. “We  _ promised _ we'd stay together!”

“I know we did.” He begins, sighing as he grabs her wrists. “But this is out of our hands. I'm sorry.”

“After everything we just went through, we can't have this?” She struggled to think clearly, carefully, strategically. All she wanted was a good explanation and maybe to hurt someone. “We almost died,  _ I _ almost gave my life for you and for this damned kingdom!”

“Don't think you're the only one in this relationship that sacrificed something.” Alistair seethed. Iltae was shocked; her eyes widened, fists unclenching, hanging loosely from his own hands. “I decided to become ruler. I claimed my birthright.  _ I _ had to conceive a child; a demon… a-a  _ thing! _ With  _ Morrigan _ of all people!”

“So that we could live!” she retorted, “So that we could be together!”

“Well, that plan backfired, didn't it?” Alistair callously let go of her wrists and stepped away, giving her some room to breathe. “They told me I have to marry Anora, ‘continue the dying bloodline’; that sort of talk.” He tried to calmly explain.

“You’re letting outsiders decide who to have a relationship with?” Iltae spat bitterly. She didn’t have to deny it; she didn’t like Anora and she was sure Anora didn’t like her. It wasn’t jealousy, just a general dislike of the Queen’s character. She's authoritarian, arrogant, and clearly follows in her father’s footsteps. The Warden truly despised that family.

“I’m not letting them decide, I’m making a choice!” Alistair replied, turning his back to her yet again, raising his arms and letting them fall down again in frustration. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on its ends as he let out another loud exhale. 

Warden Mahariel let out a loud scoff and placed her hands on her hips. She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth; this was the man that promised to stay with her—regardless of whatever obstacle was before them.

“After everything I did for you…  _ this _ is how you repay me? Maybe I was just a fling for you until you made up your mind.” Her rage started to show, she knew now that there was no turning back; there was no easy way to fix all of this. “ _ Fenedhis lasa _ * _!" _ she cursed, clicking her tongue.

“Don’t use words I haven’t learned yet!” He yelled back, pointing his finger directly at her chest. Itlae glared at him and moved forward, forcing his finger to prod her chest. Neither of them backed down.

“ _ Dirthara-ma _ * .” Iltae enunciated, pity resonating in each syllable as she spoke. “I was there those nights when you couldn’t sleep… when the Calling was so strong it drove you mad.” She slowly shifted his hand away from her chest. “When you cried over the nightmares; I was there holding you tightly, reassuring you everything was alright.”

“Believe me, I know. I was there!” Alistair rolled his eyes as he laughed patronizingly. This only angered her even more.

“Don’t be such a smart ass with me! I helped you when nobody else did! We were both in a dark place when we met; and we got out of it… together.” Tears started to well up in her eyes. “I was so proud of you… of the man you became.” Alistair stood in silence, slightly lowering his gaze, suddenly saddened by the phrase ‘I was so proud of you’. She continued, “I almost gave my life for you.”

“And I would have gladly given mine up for you!” He couldn’t hold it back anymore; sadness was finally overwhelming him. “You’re speaking as if this isn’t also hurting me! I tried to keep my real emotions bottled up, to try and make this easier.” He expressed. “But this does hurt.  _ A lot _ .”

“Is that what your new council suggested? Acting like a Tranquil, just to make this easier for  _ you _ ?” Tears finally flowed from her eyes, cascading over her  _ vallaslin _ * as they silently dropped onto the stone floor. He let out another sigh, caving as he wrapped his arms around her.

Alistair moved one of his shoulders, encouraging Iltae to bury her face into it; her safe place to empty her tears. She settled for propping her chin on his clavicle. His hugs were mostly the solution to their fights, even though this one was of a different caliber.

“I want you to stay.” Alistair whispered into her ear while cradling her.

“Nobody wants a Dalish Queen… not even one that’s a Warden.” She quietly scoffed while wiping one of her cheeks. “Plus, I can’t carry your heir.”

“That’s not your fault—none of this is your fault, love.” He faintly rubbed her back with one hand while the other caressed her crimson hair. “We did what was expected of us and it seems like everyone wants more.”

“I wish I had known sooner; none of us would be in this mess.” She buried her face onto his chest, sounding defeated.

“Sweetheart, we’d be dead by now if we knew all of this sooner.” The regular Alistair had made an appearance, causing her muscles to finally soften. Iltae began to gently push him away as if she was collecting herself, preparing to leave. 

She only managed a few steps away from him before he closed the distance between them once again, grasping her arms tightly. Her hands mirrored his own; the two of them emitting feelings of uncertainty and fear. Almost instinctively, her body curves against his; he draws her face closer and his lips finally meet hers. The kiss starts out soft but quickly turns brash, heated; their hands pulling at each other’s bodies. As soon as the kiss ended, he pressed his forehead against hers, both of them breathless, tears welling up in their eyes once more. 

“Please, stay.”

“I can’t.” She managed to breathe out and was finally released from his grip. She staggered backwards but regained her balance and swiftly moved towards the door.

“At least… at least say my name, one last time.” Alistair stumbled over his words, hastingly trying to collect his thoughts. “That always calmed me down.”

“I’m sorry, my King.” She replied as she opened the door and began walking out. “But that is a request I cannot fulfill.” Iltae exited the room with her back towards him; she couldn’t bear to look at him. As soon as the door closed shut, she walked away from the room, her lover and her new King.

**Author's Note:**

> * Ma vhenan - "my heart", "my love".  
> * Fenedhis lasa - a common curse, "crap", "damn".  
> * Dirthara-ma - “May you learn”, a common curse.  
> * Vallaslin - blood writing, what the Dalish call the intricate facial tattoos worn by all adult clan members.


End file.
